


At The Grown Up's Table

by AJP_37



Series: Red [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3 parts, F/M, Hale Family Feelings, M/M, Peter Has Feelings, Sheriff and Melissa were robbed, around chapter 45/46 of Red, what the grown ups are doing during Red
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23139490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJP_37/pseuds/AJP_37
Summary: Sheriff Stilinski and Melissa are too tired to fight it anymore.Peter needs answers.Raf and Argent have a job to do.The adults are left to connect the dots of this story.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Peter Hale, Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski, Rafael McCall & Chris Argent
Series: Red [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/919356
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	At The Grown Up's Table

**Author's Note:**

> Just us gals, out here connecting some dots in the story and building some more layers to our world.
> 
> Be gentle, I hope ya like!

Finally having been sent away from the police station and not yet ready to head home to what he was sure was an empty house, Noah Stilinski found himself wandering into the remains of the hospital, take-away chinese food in tow. 

Flashing his badge and a tired smile, the nurse at the desk nodded knowingly, picking up the phone to page Melissa to the desk. 

“I hope you’re here to take your wife home,” the nurse, Katie said, pulling a cardigan from the back of an office chair and folding it on the counter. In a testament to how dog-tired he was, he didn't even react to her mis-identifying him as Melissa’s husband. “She’s been pulling all kinds of crazy hours, I’ll be surprised if she even recognises you.”

“Is that dinner? Please let it be dinner and not evidence?” Melissa huffed a frazzled laugh as she emerged from behind the ‘Staff Only’ doors, pulling her curly hair up into a haphazard ponytail. 

“It’s dinner,” Noah said, relief washing over him. While Melissa looked exhausted, she was upright and injury free, better off that many humans in their lives. 

“And also your last chance to go home before I call the director of nursing,” Katie said, pursing her lips and pushing the cardigan across the counter towards Melissa. “You’ve maxed out your hours, girl. Even a machine likes you needs to take a moment before someone gets hurt.” 

It was a testament to how exhausted Melissa was that she didn’t even argue, just meekly accepting the cardigan and turning towards Noah. “Can we take this food on the go?” Melissa smiled wearily. “If you don’t mind driving? Scott dropped me off.” 

“You’re on,” Noah agreed, holding out his hand, intending to take her cardigan. Instead, she shoved the garment into her bag and took his hand in hers, entwining their fingers so all he could do was follow along in a daze. 

The walk back to his truck and Melissa’s hand, warm in his, was enough to wake him up and clear his head enough to drive. Melissa’s house still bore scars from the war, several windows were still boarded up, and as they pulled into the driveway, the headlights illuminated the smashed glass and bullet shells littering the yard. 

Inside, Melissa had done everything to get her home back to normal; the place spotless as rooms were revealed as she switched lights on. 

“That food probably needs to be reheated now,” she said quietly, trailing into the bathroom and leaving him in the kitchen, before calling out from behind the closed over door. “Whiskey is on top of the fridge.”

Dumping the chinese food into the microwave, Noah quickly found the whiskey and two glasses from the cabinet. Pouring out two drinks, he took one back to the fridge, taking in the photos taped to the front. Much like pictures of Stiles in his own house, every flat surface in the house was covered with photo frames showing Scott growing up over the years. But here on the fridge, Melissa’s current life was on show. 

The bills she hadn't got around to paying yet were held on by a clip, along with the menus to her favourite venues around town; the chinese restaurant he had gotten the food from front and center and worn with love. There were polaroids of Scott’s pack, even a sneaky shot of Theo smiling over a packing box. Tucked behind a to-do list was a picture from the dinner they’d had to farewell Stiles. He’d drunk too much whiskey and cried about his only son leaving him. 

The picture was a little blurry, a folded piece of printer paper rather than the glossy photo paper like the others. Melissa had taken the picture, her smile big as she looked at her phone, he was right next to her, his face red from the whiskey but his smile genuine as he pressed his face into her hair. 

It made his heart skip a beat to think that she thought so much of that moment that she had to have it printed and on her fridge. 

“I was worried when things started to get messy that I would lose my phone again like the other year with the Darach,” Melissa said quietly, emerging from the bathroom in soft looking pyjamas and slippers, touching his arm gently as she went to collect her drink, taking the glass and bottle and heading for the couch. 

He followed her movements with his eyes, shaking his head when the microwave beeped. Collecting the food, he followed her to the couch, dumping it down onto the coffee table before settling next to her.

“Sorry about disappearing,” Melissa smiled, reaching for a take a container and digging in, her eyes closing in bliss as she took her first mouthful. “I’m coming off the longest shift of my life and I needed to get the smell of the hospital off me.” 

“You smelled fine,” Noah said, taking the box from her and digging in himself. “I’d been home for a shower and tried to go back. No one was having it and I was sent away.” 

“We really are a couple of hopeless cases,” Melissa laughed, downing her drink and pouring another one. 

Noah looked around the living room, both of them lost in their own thoughts while they ate their food. How many times had they sat here; the boys upstairs playing video games? After she’d thrown Raph out, and the kids had gone on a overnight school trip, she had raged at him, crying and screaming as she boxed up the last of Raph’s belongings to be sent to his parent’s house. 

He’d filled her glass with wine, staying sober for the first time in a long time, to show her, and himself that he could. 

“Why haven't we gone down this road before now?” Melissa asked, her cheeks rosy from the whiskey as she pulled her feet up onto the couch and tucked her toes under his thigh. 

“Whiskey and chinese food?” Noah laughed, leaning back into the plush couch. “Because I think both of us have been here many times before.”

“Us. I feel like we could have been together for years. What stopped us?”

“You werent ready, then Stiles wasn't ready, then Scott wasn't ready, and then I had to put my dad in the home and definitely wasn't ready.” Noah shrugged. His boots, badge and belt had been abandoned long ago, now he wiggled his own socked toes on the coffee table. 

“And then Scott turned into a werewolf and Stiles-”

“Was possessed by a demon and now is apparently werewolf married to Derek Hale,” Noah downed his drink, holding his empty glass to his chest. 

“Werewolf married- what does that even look like?” Melissa laughed shaking her head. “Only Stiles.”

“Only Stiles,” he agreed. “Once the last of the mess blows over, Derek is moving back to Virginia with Stiles, and my grandchildren will probably be werewolves.” 

“Yours and mine both,” Melissa laughed, slapping his arm. “We did alright, didn’t we? With our boys?” 

“We did fantastic,” Noah grinned, pulling out out his phone. “And speaking of- I said I’d message Stiles and let him know if I need a ride, and I have drunk too much to get myself home.” 

“Or, don’t,” Melissa said, her voice quiet. “Stay.”

“Mel, I wouldn’t assume-” Noah said, sitting forward and placing his phone face down on the table. 

Melissa sat forward as well, her hand gentle as it found his again. 

“Stay with me, stay for good.” 

***

“So, you’re plum out of alphas. What are you going to do?” Peter asked his guest, bringing two expensive looking bottles of wine to the outdoor dining area of his lush townhouse. 

“Peter,” Derek warned, following behind him with several fresh, long stemmed glasses balanced in his hands. His uncle’s new house in Beacon Hills was built in a trendy area downtown, not far from his own apartment building. Derek had purchased the string of townhouses at the same auction, contracting out their renovation and flipping them. 

It was a legacy of their relationship that their communication was so stunted that Derek hadn't realised his uncle had been a purchaser of the property until he had arrived back to Beacon Hills.

In the time he had been gone, Peter had taken the clean, modern design and added his own flavour to the house. And now the once sparse courtyard was filled with natural wood and lush greenery, as though Peter’s designer had been instructed to use the Woods as inspiration and seated at an outdoor dining table on a raised deck overlooking the plunge pool was Marin Morell and Alan Deaton. 

Derek wasn't sure why his uncle had demanded his presence here, he’d much rather be with Stiles, with his sister, or anywhere else really. Cora and Malia had gone out for a run, laughing and joking as they dropped Derek off. 

“I am without any pack, yes,” Morelle said, her voice steady, her face giving nothing away. 

“And what is it that you emissaries do without a pack?” Peter smiled sweetly, offering up the bottles for people to make their selections. 

“We-” Morrelle started, only to be cut off by Peter.

“Of course your brother is really the expert here, after what happened to our family.” 

“Peter.” Derek warned, taking his seat and picking at what was left of his meal. 

“No Derek,” Peter hissed, pouring out drinks and slamming the glasses down in front of each of his guests. “I have questions, that I mean to have answered.” 

“You may ask,” Deaton said, taking a sip from the red wine he had selected. “But there will be no joy in any answer you are given.” 

“When Talia was murdered; Derek’s mother, his father, My sisters- No you will look at me!” Peter snarled, causing Deaton to calmly look up from his food, placing his knife and fork down. “My wife and all of the little ones. When ten members of our pack were killed in the home we had been raised in. When I was burned within an inch of my life and devoid of my sanity. Where were you?”

“I was devastated,” Deaton said after a moment, taking a long drink from his wine.

“You had no right,” Peter snapped, his eyes wild. “There were children who needed you- the new alpha-” 

“Laura,” Derek whispered leaning back on his chair as he took in what his uncle was saying, and processing what he was demanding to know. “I was sixteen and still in school here and Laura was-”

“She was a college freshman in New York. She needed to come home, she needed to be guided through the grief, through ritual, She needed to keep the pups close, instead-” 

“She came for me and we just left,” Derek continued quietly. “We thought we were all that was left. Beacon Hills was too dangerous.” 

“There were wards,” Peter growled, his claws pricking into the chair cushions. “There were protection spells and boundaries. We had been safe for years. And something has been eating at that since you became involved.” 

“What are you saying Peter?” Morelle asked. 

“I am saying that Derek was less responsible for the fire than he was led to believe.” 

“It was my fault” Derek frowned. “I told Kate-”

“That shouldn’t have mattered.” Peter snapped. “The magic should have stopped her from stepping forward with ill intent. You and I aren't privy to the kind of information that would have let her do that.” 

“I-” Deaton started.

“It's the same magic that ties us to the land,” Peter continued. “Why you are always drawn back to the old house, why Brett and Lori never left, why Malia stayed in the woods- why she was safe as a coyote for so long.”

“What did you do brother?” Morelle asked, as Deaton shifted in his seat, showing genuine discomfort for the first time. 

“The wards were left to lapse. A girl in a bar on the nights they were meant to be renewed perhaps?” 

Derek watched in horror as Deaton hung his head, his face showing his shame.

“Satomi Ito was left to raise my niece and nephew,” Peter continued. “My little sister’s children, after everything you know they went through, just thrown into the system like common trash instead of born wolves. Hales.”

The accusations kept pouring from his lips, the dam unable to stop the flow now that he’d started, the grief and anger clawing at his insides making every word burn.

“You left Cora in South America, you let them tell her that her brother and sister were dead. You let Corrine come for my only living daughter, when you took her from me for her protection in the first place.” 

“You let Laura be lured back here like a lamb to the slaughter.” Peter continued. “You let Derek come back and bury her and never once did you reveal yourself to him.”

“You talk of me failing Laura when you’re the one who tore her in two, only metres from the safety of her home,” Deaton stuttered, the after dinner barrage clearly getting to him.

“Hales cannot harm Hales,” Peter countered, the scent of his shame briefly flaring through the rage but immediately quashed down. “Hales cannot be harmed on Hale land. Or at least they shouldn’t. But they did. Care to explain?” 

“There are reasons-” Deaton clammered, sweat evident on his face as he struggled with the scrutiny.

Derek had never felt right about what happened with his sister. He remembered his uncle Peter from before. He had been a funny, devoted father and beta. There was never a question of his loyalty to his mother, but somehow, he had killed his niece, his own blood for power.

“Reasons why you would favour Scott McCall over any Hales?” Peter spat. “Even after Derek took the alpha spark, you ignored him, while you were raising the True Alpha, what was the Hale pack left with- Stiles, a stolen bestiary and a jar of mountain ash.” 

“You woke up the Nemeton with those rituals. You turned Isaac, Scott, Alison and Stiles’ souls inside out for information. 

“You knew about his spark and you put Stiles through the ritual. You brought the nogitsune to him,” Derek said, staring down his mother’s emissary. “If he had died, his blood would be on your hands.” 

“As is that of Alison Argent,” Deaton said. “Which is why her ghost haunts me each night.” 

“So it should,” Peter snarled. 

“Stiles sees her too,” Derek said quietly. “He talks to her in his sleep.” 

His uncle shot him a savage look. This was something that needed to be discussed at another time.

“Stiles’ magic is growing stronger,” Morelle said, drawing their attention back to her. “Since everything, the more he is around magic the more his body will harness it.” 

“Someone needs to train him before someone gets hurt.” Peter narrowed his eyes. “And at this point, I think a female tutor will be better.”

“I have a few things I can show him,.” Morelle nodded. “As long as you are fine with me working in your area?” She asked her brother. 

Peter snarled, his eyes bright blue and his teeth sharp. Morelle placed her hand over her brothers on the table, shooting down Peter’s aggression with a stern look.

“There are rules,” Peter snapped. “A pound of flesh.” 

Morelle nodded, fixing her eyes on her brother.

“You released the void in Stiles. Now, what are we going to do about it?” 

***

“So, been in the business long?” Raph asked Argent as they jumped the back fence into a military style compound. 

They were on the hunt with information that would lead them to Nolan and Brett, apparently abducted from some hotel in downtown Beacon Hills according to a panicked phone call from Scott. They had been chasing up another lead in the area, so it wasn't much for them to turn the car around and head in a different direction.

“Business?” Argent asked, raising his eyebrows as he cleared a corner, handgun raised. 

“Military, PD, supernatural special forces?” Raph asked, having his back as they went around a corner, clearing each room that lined a long corridor. 

“10 years service before I joined the family business,” Chris grunted, kicking down a door before checking the room inside. “Military grade weapons, private security. We moved around a whole lot.” 

“I heard about your family. Really rough man,” Raph said, stopping to check the instructions from Scott on his phone. 

“And I heard about yours. It’s tough.” 

“You and Mel are close I heard.” 

“For a minute,” Chris gestured inside the last room in the corridor, the pair making it inside before a guard came down the line. “I wasn't ready and she was into someone else.” 

“Stilinski,” Raph shrugged. 

“You guys were friends?” Chris asked, sticking his head out of the room before darting back in. 

“I wasn't in a place for friends when I left town, he told me what I needed to hear and I didnt want to listen until it was too late,” Raph said quietly. “He’s a good man, she could do worse.” 

“That's what I used to say about Scott and my Allison,” Chris said, sliding a tiny camera under the door to watch the guard standing down the hall. 

“I’ve seen pictures of your girl, and honestly, I can't believe I helped Scott move in with Isaac. The two just don't seem to match up.” 

Chris laughed. “Oh man, it makes more sense when I say that my Alison used to be right in the middle of that.” 

“I’m not surprised Scott would end up in a love triangle.” Raph said, checking his phone again for updates. 

“Not a triangle,” Chris said, raising his eyebrows until the other father clicked. “Alison was right in the middle.”

“Oh.” 

“Oh is right.” Chris laughed. “Look they were happy. It was weird and awkward, but it was teenage love. For all of them.” 

Raph only had a second to process before Chris was motioning for them to move, slipping from the room and around the corner. They jogged down another row of rooms, quickly checking each one before bursting through a door at the end, coming face to face with Nolan and Brett, sitting on a plastic covered couch with steaming mugs. Across from them, sitting on a printed armchair, her ankles neatly crossed, was Araya Calavera, her eyebrows raised. 

“Gentlemen,” she purred, a large leather bound book resting on her lap. “It is time for a conversation.” 

***

After the emissary siblings had left, a fresh rune representing penance clawed into the flesh of Deaton’s back and Morelle’s promise to make contact with Stiles hanging in the air like the smell of blood, Derek helped Peter clean up from the dinner.

He hadn't been sure what he was walking into when his uncle had asked him to dinner tonight. But here they were, their sordid past laid bare and retribution taken. They had been through so much together, shared so much pain, so much hatred. 

They were the same.

Like Peter had killed Laura, mad with grief and pain, Derek had killed Boyd, forced by the alphas. 

They had pushed everyone away. Until Peter found his daughter Malia, and Derek found his mate Stiles.

“The accountant said that Brett accessed his money. Apparently lashing out on a fancy hotel room,” Derek said as he closed the door on the dishwasher. “He wants us to talk to him about frivolous spending.” 

Finally, Peter huffed out a laugh. “When I came into my money I bought a jet ski, I believe you bought a sports car. Hell, I bought this house.” 

“It feels so weird knowing they were here the whole time,” Derek said, leaning against the kitchen cabinets as Peter took a bar stool. “I caught a scent just after Scott turned Liam, distant but so familiar- it was Brett.” 

“Kate turned Nolan,” Peter said, saluting Derek with his glass, filled with the last of the wine. “How are you feeling about that?” 

“She’s gone now,” Derek frowned. “I can't help but think that he got off easier- she destroyed my whole life, but Nolan has been given the gift.” 

“More than you realise,” Peter said, pulling out a computer tablet from his bag and swiping it open. “When I was in South America, we found some things.” 

“About?” 

“Nolan may have been given a bigger gift than just the bite…” Peter said, pulling up the file he wanted and handing it over to Derek. 

Derek furrowed his brow as he read the information. 

“This is it,” he said, looking up at his uncle, who was nodding at him. “This is the key to it all.”


End file.
